Eric had never been particularly good at bringing her to climax when they’d been married. And this now was nothing more than a power trip, one he wanted to take to salvage his pride. He didn’t really even want her; he just wanted to rub Tyler’s nose in her orgasm. After everything that had happened during their breakup and her pregnancy, the thought of Eric touching her again made her stomach pitch and roll.
But she wasn’t terribly surprised. In fact, she should have seen this coming. Eric had always looked for validation in everything. His lack of self-confidence sometimes drove him to take stupid risks. That’s how he’d been shot in the first place, trying to play the hero without adequate backup.
“You better not f**king touch her!” Tyler shouted, jerking against his restraints.
“What?” Eric asked, all innocence. “You don’t think it’ll be great fun to watch the woman you love get off at the hands of another man?”
“It’s not going to happen, Eric.” She crossed her arms over her chest, shooting him her sternest look.
He stalked closer, and Del had nowhere to go. She held up her hands to ward him off, but that was like hoping a butterfly net would stop a barreling semi.
“Sure, it is. I want to get my tongue on your pu**y, Del. How does that sound, Tyler?” Eric tossed a triumphant glare over his shoulder at his former friend.
Hell no. She had to put a stop to this now.
Del pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I don’t want this, and I don’t want you, Eric. Are you planning to rape me? Really?”
He cocked a brow. “Since you basically cheated on me when I was crippled and wasn’t sure I’d ever walk again, don’t you think you owe me the chance now to prove that I can flip your switch as much as he does?”
After throwing her out because she was pregnant? After divorcing her in nothing flat, despite the fact that she’d taken care of him for months? His insecurity and feelings of inadequacy had been understandable, given how fast and hard she’d fallen for Tyler that night, but he’d pushed them together, and she couldn’t change it now. Her bigger question was, why the hell hadn’t he gotten over it in the last two years?
“It’s not like you want me back,” she pointed out. “Our marriage fell apart in six short weeks. It’s over. You’re not going to make me come, and I’m not going to let you try.” She focused on her phone for a second, then sent him a warning. “Come a step closer, and I’ll call nine-one-one.”
That only made Eric laugh. “Which one of my friends will respond to the call? You think they’re going to help the adultering whore who broke my heart and the traitor who knocked her up?”
His words sank in and made her feel all kinds of sick, but Eric was right. No one who responded to her distress call would believe her or lift a finger to help her.
“Don’t even think about it,” Tyler growled.
He yanked on his cuff again, but there was no way he was getting free. The handle of the refrigerator was built seamlessly into the unit and made of solid steel, as were the cuffs. He cursed, then turned to riffle through the nearby drawers for the cooking knives. They were empty, and he struggled to tear them out of the cabinets, to no avail. She realized now that the counter had been cleared of the blender and other heavy knickknacks Tyler might have thrown or used as weapons. When he wrenched open the cabinet above, all the glasses had been removed. Eric sent his former friend a terrible smile.
Del’s stomach plummeted, cramped. Eric had clearly put some thought into this plan. God, now she was actually terrified. How far would fury and insecurity push her ex-husband?
An awful feeling of vulnerability set in. Panic. After the shooting, Del had quickly learned that, when angry, Eric was capable of hideous insults that he may or may not regret later. Now that he was healthy and mobile again, she suspected he was capable of much worse than hurtful words. And that he was bent on some sort of revenge.
“If I ever meant anything to you, please don’t touch me.” Del heard the pleading note in her voice, and as much as she hated to show weakness, she hoped it penetrated the thick shell of his rage.
It didn’t. He just came closer and gripped her wrist, tugging on it to drag her to him. “It’s because you meant something to me that I’m not giving up.”
Bullshit. This was about Eric’s pride, about hurting Tyler. About losing out. Whatever love he’d felt for her had died long ago.
“You look so pretty, Del. I’ve missed you.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist and ground his erection against her stomach, tried to nuzzle her neck.
Apprehension soaring, she pushed at him. “Eric, don’t.”
“Get your hands off of her, you motherfucker!” Tyler shouted, yanking again on the handcuffs. The refrigerator rattled across the hardwood floor. Blood trickled down his wrist.
Del’s heart lurched in her throat. Tyler was going to hurt himself getting free. And given the fury thundering across his face, he would kill Eric—and enjoy every minute of it. If Carlson became DA and got wind of the fact that Tyler was trying to help her, the corrupt bastard would make sure that Tyler went down hard. Being convicted of murdering a cop never came with an easy sentence.
“Calm down, Tyler.” Her voice shook. As frightened as she was, panicking wasn’t going to help either of them. She had to keep him from doing his worst.
“Fuck that!” He strained against the cuffs. But the two feet separating him from Eric might as well have been a chasm.
“Relax, babe,” Eric murmured in her ear, spreading kisses across her jaw, heading toward her mouth. “I just want to kiss you, make you feel good.”
No, he just wanted to flaunt her to Tyler.
She shivered. Familiarity mixed with her fear. A huge part of her was furious, even felt betrayed all over again . . . but even now, guilt clung like frost to a window. On the surface, her marriage had ended because Eric hadn’t been able to handle the sexual favor he’d asked of his wife and his best friend. But deep down, they’d divorced because she had been more in love with Tyler than her own husband after that night—and Eric had known it. It would be easy to lay all the blame at his feet—but not entirely fair. She’d played her role.